The Midsummer Ball
by mattgerrard
Summary: Jacob's brother Paul wants to go to the Midsummer Ball, and so does Merula, but can they stand going together? A dark force may have other plans. Image by taratjah.
1. An Unexpected Date

_**This story contains spoilers from Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery. I've played the game about halfway through year five. I've tried to keep references to prior events and possible outcomes as general as possible, and made a few tweaks of the storyline of my own.  
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_**Obviously, I own nothing and this is written solely for your enjoyment :-). **_

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"Six weeks to Hogwarts Midsummer Ball. Paul Finch, wash dishes. You look too happy. Then go to the storage room and count how many punch bowls we have." Pitts, the house elf in charge of the Hogwarts kitchens, gave orders to the rest of the detention students and waved dismissively for everyone to get to work. If there was one thing Pitts despised more than his own staff, it students like Paul.

Paul put on his best happy face, which vanished like fog as soon as he turned to face the sink. Nicknamed the Finals Feast and the Farewell Feast, Midsummer Ball was a dance for fifth years and up that celebrated the end of OWLs, NEWTs, and for the graduating students, their time at Hogwarts. Six weeks? Girls were ordering dresses, and boys were ordering tuxedos, except for Paul. He was the only one of his circle of friends without a date. Even though he'd broken through four Cursed Vaults, which meant he'd saved the school at least twice, many people still looked at him as the cursed student. In his five years at Hogwarts, Paul had had two short relationships: one that ended because they didn't have enough in common, and another because he couldn't stay out of trouble. The girls he knew were happy to have him as a friend, but he just didn't seem to be boyfriend material.

Paul found a brush and a towel. He heated up the water with his wand, then plunged up to his elbows into hot suds and dishes. He winced as the hot water prickled his skin. He tried to keep the water as hot as he could stand it because it cleaned the dishes faster, and it gave his stamina a challenge. Steam made his wavy brown hair cling to his cheeks. Paul sighed and rubbed it off with his shoulder. He'd probably be spending the Midsummer Ball in his room. Maybe he'd go next year. That is, if the Cursed Vaults didn't kill him or something. Or worse, if he flunked all his OWLs.

"Well, if it isn't everyone's least favorite cursed student," he heard behind him.

"Morrigan's cauldron...," Paul moaned under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder. Merula Snyde. The hazel-eyed, messy-haired witch took her time walking over. Her eyes made his heart do flip flops, but her demeanor brought him back to earth like lead shoes every time. The color splash in Merula's hair was jungle green this week. She wore her signature combat boots and leggings with sort of a mesh pattern under her school uniform. Paul had to give it to her: she had style, even if she was a pain in the neck as a classmate.

She turned up her nose slightly as she approached the sinks. Paul had the impression that she was used to house elves doing this kind of work. "Hello, Queen of Hogwarts," he said. "Lost any duels lately?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm unbeaten in the dueling club. And outside of it. Other than our duels." She stood at the sink next to him, which he was using to rinse dishes. She rolled up her sleeves, took the dish he was washing and started to rinse it.

That surprised Paul. He'd never seen Merula in the kitchens. And why help him wash? "Is that what got you down here washing dishes and making meals with the rest of us?"

"Sort of. Someone just had to prove he was better, and I proved he was wrong. We were caught just after I flattened him."

"Well, good job with the duel. Maybe they'll let you dry with your wand while I wash."

"Laugh it up, Finch. You've got the longest lucky streak at school."

"I can't be that lucky. You're here drying dishes with me."

"Yeah, well. That's not why I came over."

"Then why did you?"

"Because...," Merula looked away. She twisted the towel in her hands. "Because..." Merula tapped her foot, the rubber sole of her combat boot making a quiet slapping sound on the floor. Paul sensed a short, ferocious fight inside her. Merula rolled her eyes and grumbled, "Because I don't have a date for the Midsummer Ball."

Paul frowned. "I thought you were seeing Nigel, Earl of Hair Products. Did he forget to ask or something?"

"Nigel's the one I dueled. He had an inferiority complex about me. The idiot challenged me to a duel—right in the middle of the common room! And he's as clumsy with his wand as he is with his hair. It was all I could do not to kill him by accident."

Paul snickered. "Well, you let him down easy. So why me?"

"You've always... respected me, as a witch... even if you're a jerk—I mean, sometimes... and you have the guts to break a few rules."

Merula looked like she'd rather be re-bristling every broom in Flying class. Paul got the feeling that giving him compliments was harder than any class she'd ever taken. "I'm honored and insulted at the same time. Thank you. Kind of."

"Look. I saw Badeea turn you down in the courtyard. I know you want to go."

"Oh, for crying out loud." Paul's cheeks burned.

"So let's help each other out, make the best of it and just... ask me already!"

Paul wanted to say, _Forget it. I'll sit in my room and read and play wizard solitaire_, but he really wanted to go, and before he could stop himself, he said, "Fine. Will you go with me to the Ball."

Merula blinked. "Yes," she said—probably before she could stop herself, too.

"I—all right..." Did that just happen?

Merula looked for a place to put her towel. She turned left, then right, then left again, then finally said, "Here," and put her towel into his hands. She hurried away. Over her shoulder, she said, "I'll be in touch about flowers."

Flowers? What? "What about these dishes?"

"I don't have detention. And I have a dress to buy!" She left the kitchens so fast a pair of house elves had to snap-apparate out of her way.


	2. What Should I Wear?

The responses from Paul's friends ran the gamut.

Rowan: "I'll come up with a list of conversation topics. That way, if Merula says anything insulting, we can change the subject."

Penny: "I'm so happy you're going, Paul. We'll have a great time!"

Ben: "You're even braver than I thought you were—and that's saying something! Merula scares me."

Tulip: "She washed dishes with you, so that she could get you to ask her to the Midsummer Ball? She's craftier than I thought."

Tonks: "You're going with Merula? If she gives you any trouble, send up sparks and I'll tune that bitch up for you."

Charlie: "I think this was meant to be. It's been you versus her ever since you both came to Hogwarts. Sometimes the dragons with the strongest bonds start out as adversaries."

Bill: "Chin up, Paul. Keep an open mind. If it's a long night, we'll be there for you."

Jae: "Merula must have been desperate to ask out the competition. The Ball might be rough. I can sneak a little liquid pick-me-up into the school if you need some."

Liz: "You should give her a chance. Merula can be cruel, but animals are like that if they've been mistreated. Take care of yourself, too."

Barnaby: "If Nigel does anything stupid, I'll have a word with him. Like 'punch.'"

Diego: "Hope for the best, plan for the worst, that's what I always say."

Badeea: "I wonder about Merula. I think she has a troubled soul. I hope you two have fun."

Andre: "Let me know when you want to go tuxedo shopping! I have mine already, but I'll try on clothes while you shop for yours."

Paul could barely remember to coordinate his socks, so he jumped at Andre's offer to help him shop for his clothes. They caught up with Merula the next day. Paul and Andre had a study period between Potions and Transfiguration, which they usually spent in the library. Merula was often there, too, reading up on some obscure magic. Today it was an ancient, ponderous tome with text that floated around the page.

"What are you reading?" Paul asked, genuinely curious. He and Andre sat down across from Merula. The screech of their chairs brought a warning glance from Madam Pince.

Merula whispered, "Be quiet, both of you. It's practice for my Ancient Runes OWL. It's taken me a month to get my hands on it so don't piss off Madam Pince. What do you want?"

"Okay, fine..." He glanced at Andre. His friend smiled and nodded. "I wanted to ask about the Ball."

Merula looked up again. "Why didn't you say so?" She lay a bookmark tassel on the page she was reading, causing the words to freeze in place. "Shoot."

"I need to know what you want me to wear." Paul tried to remember the advice that Andre gave him. "It's a formal event, but some girls like their dates to match their dress. Or almost match. Or maybe you're not worried about it..."

"Shh!" Madam Pince hissed.

Merula waited until the librarian's attention was elsewhere. She looked relaxed, maybe pleased that he was asking her. She whispered, "All right, I get it. Get a black tuxedo. Ivory vest and tie."

Andre couldn't help himself. "Classic style or modern?" he asked.

"What are you, his fashion advisor?"

Paul said, "He is. Be nice to him if you want me to look good."

"SHH!" Madam Pince hissed again.

Merula glared at Paul. She mouthed the words, _Be quiet, you idiot! _Then she took a breath and shrugged. "You figure it out," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. Paul couldn't quite hear her, but Andre did, and nodded.

Trying not to draw Madam Pince's wrath, Paul whispered, too quietly, "What color is your dress? Have you figured out what you want for flowers?" Andre and Merula stared at him. Paul mimed a bouquet of flowers, then smelling a bouquet and saying _ahh_. They still stared at him. Paul rolled his eyes and mouthed the word _f-l-o-w-e-r-s_ as slowly as he could, exaggerating his lips like he was Mick Jagger.

Merula nodded, pointed to her nose and then at Paul. She checked Madam Pince, who was reading something in a book that floated near her. Merula dug a note out of her robes and handed it to him. She whispered, "My mother would get flowers here."

Paul read the note. _Altheda Bluebell. Florist. Hogsmeade. _Below that, Merula had written notes in a shorthand that Paul couldn't decipher. He showed it to Andre. Andre shrugged. Paul pointed at it and looked at her. "What's this?" he asked.

"A girl has her secrets," Merula replied.

"Don't complain to me if it gets screwed up."

Merula smiled sweetly. "Finch, if you screw up my night at the Ball, I'll throw you to the Whomping Willow, let it beat you to death, and drop what's left in the lake for the squid to eat."

"You and what army?" Paul asked, his voice rising.

Madam Pince snapped her fingers and a piece of duct tape popped into existence over Paul's mouth.

Merula snorted. Paul's cheeks burned. Paul ripped off the tape—ow! He was about to tell her what she could do with her secrets when Andre gently gripped his shoulder. "We've got what we need, curse-breaker. Let's go," he said.

Merula waved bye-bye to them with a taunting twinkle in her eye. As Paul and Andre left the library, Paul muttered, "I should have asked an acromantula to the Ball instead."

The following Saturday, Paul and Andre took the train to Hogsmeade. They spent three hours at a formal wear shop called The Silk Robe. Paul tried on tuxedos while Andre tried on the latest in jackets, hats and robes. After a big lunch at The Three Broomsticks and all the butterbeer they could drink, Paul found Ms. Bluebell's flower shop and placed the order. He noticed the words "butterfly - rose gold" on the receipt. On a hunch, he went back to The Silk Robe and bought a set of cufflinks in rose gold for good measure. It wiped out a chunk of his savings, and she probably wouldn't even notice, but he thought it was a nice, romantic touch. With the Cursed Vaults threatening his life every year he might never go to another Midsummer Ball, so he might as well splurge.

On the train back to Hogwarts, Paul daydreamed about the big night to come while Andre read about the latest Quidditch news. While he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he knew that he was a romantic at heart. He couldn't believe he was a little over a month away from wearing a tux, just like James Bond, or his mother's Hollywood crushes, Cary Grant and Gregory Peck. When he was little, he'd imagined going to the Ball, falling in love, making people ooh and aah with some fancy dance moves. Now that it was here, Paul thought he'd be lucky if he didn't get into a fight with Merula or fall into the punch bowl.

He snickered at himself. Paul couldn't be half as dashing or sophisticated as Grant and Peck on his best day. As long as he had fun, he'd be thrilled. He'd never worn a tux before; never been to a formal event or any kind of gala; and certainly never thought he'd be on a date with his arch nemesis from Slytherin. He tried to imagine them having something in common and actually having a good time. Paul came up empty. He shrugged to himself and crossed his fingers as he watched the countryside go by outside the train's window.


	3. Meeting Nigel

"Excuse me, are you Paul Finch?"

Paul was halfway through a lunch of chicken sandwich, crisps, juice and an apple when he met Nigel Blackwell face to face. Merula's former boyfriend beamed at him from across the table. He had baby blue eyes and shiny, perfectly coiffed, dusty blond hair in waves that rolled across the top of his head. A seventh year, and Slytherin's Quidditch team captain, he stood a full six feet two, towering over Paul even from the other side of the table.

Paul stood up and offered his hand. "Yes. You're—"

"Nigel Blackwell." He took Paul's hand with an iron grip and pumped it. Nigel's smile broadened in a way that made Paul want to smile, too, which bugged him. He reminded Paul of that Gilderoy Lockhart fellow, without the wardrobe. Paul held back. The word around Hogwarts was that Nigel Blackwell would do anything for Nigel Blackwell, and the one thing that exceeded his ambition was his ego. Hence his hair.

Instead, Paul gave Nigel a tight, polite grin. "Nice to meet you. Have a seat?" Paul asked.

"Thank you. I don't mind if I do."

"Sorry if I keep eating. What's up?"

"I wanted to meet you. Curse breaker, model student... and taking Merula to the Midsummer Ball."

"You're not asking me to step aside, are you?"

"No, not at all. I know when I've made a mistake. I was hoping you could tell Merula that I'm sorry for the way I acted. My temper sometimes gets the better of me."

"Don't feel bad. She's good at dueling."

"I found that out the hard way."

"Why don't you tell her yourself? You're in the same house. I'm sure she'd appreciate that." Actually, she'd probably laugh, snort, _pffft_, or ignore it completely.

"She isn't talking to me anymore. You know how she is."

"No... I guess I don't." If there was one thing about Merula that Paul knew, it was that she wasn't shy about speaking her mind. Especially with people she didn't like. "I'll pass your thoughts along, though."

"Splendid. I hope we can hang out together during the Midsummer Ball. We probably have a lot in common."

The hair on the back of Paul's neck stood up. Nigel was one of the most popular seventh years at Hogwarts. Why would he want to buddy up to the fifth year dating his ex-girlfriend? Paul shrugged and said, "Could be. What comic books do you like?"

"I'm not into comics. I do like Gilderoy Lockhart's books." _Foul, haversacking, Slytherin chaser! Keep those hands off the hoop!_

"Muggle music?"

"I've never tried it. I hear they use electricity to change how they sound. Don't you think that's odd?"

"It's not as smooth as magic, but it's not bad." _Foul, blocking, chaser again! Yellow card! _

"What's your favorite Quidditch team?"

"Lancashire Lions."

"Spot on! The Lions rule!"

"_Fly, Li-ons, fly... on the wings of vic-to-ry..._," Paul sang. He pointed at Nigel to sing the next verse. A real fan would know the Lions' fight song by heart.

Nigel shrugged. "I don't know that one. You're a bigger fan than I am!"

"Must be." _OOH! Blatching on the Slytherin chaser! People get hurt that way. There's the red card, and he's not happy out that!_

The clock tower struck five to the hour. "Gotta dash! Potions in five. Snape doesn't wait!" Paul said. He scooped up his books and headed out the door. Paul imagined a dark cloud following him out of the Great Hall. He was sure that Nigel Blackwell didn't like him, and wasn't happy that his little fishing expedition hadn't gone so well. Paul made a mental note to brush up on his dueling later. He had a feeling he'd need the practice.


	4. Can I Get to Know You?

The smell of cotton candy mixed with tinny, burned air filled the Potions classroom. All around Paul wands crackled and cauldrons bubbled, some seething with froth. His hadn't yet. He checked the massive tome at the end of their table—Grimoire of Magickal Mixtures, volume II—he was supposed to get froth, but not until step five. He didn't think he was that far behind...

"Forgotten how to read?" Merula asked. Her eyes were pinned to her cauldron. She was assigned to the same work bench, along with Rowan and Tonks at the other of the table. Merula's hair color was burnt orange this week, and her leggings were red today. Midsummer colors. Frothy and sweet-smelling, her cauldron looked perfect.

Paul ignored Merula. He added two drams of essence of shadow, then flicked his wand at his cauldron to give it a tiny jolt of green lightning, like a big carpet shock. His brew turned brilliant gold, pouring out mist, then faded to clear and frothed up to the brim.

"Correct, Finch," professor Snape said over his shoulder.

Paul shuddered. He hoped Snape didn't notice. If the Potions professor wasn't revealed someday to be a ghost in black robes, Paul would be surprised. "Thank you, professor."

"You seemed uncertain," the professor explained. "I felt you should know before you ruined a perfectly good infusion." He moved on, a pale apparition wrapped in black whose footsteps left no sound.

Paul shook his head. Focus. Paul took out a quarter-hour sand timer and started it running. According to the tome, he had to keep it frothing but decrease the heat slowly, until the froth boiled away. Then... add this... enchant that... in any event, he had some time until the next step. He said to Merula, "Met your ex during lunch."

Merula looked up. "Nigel?"

"Are you asking me his name or whether he talked to me?"

"What did he want?"

"He says he's sorry for the way he acted, and he hopes we can hang out together at the Ball." Paul kept most of the sarcasm out of his voice.

Merula's eyes narrowed. "That's absurd! Nigel doesn't know the meaning of the word regret. And I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"Makes sense to me." Merula returned her attention to her potion. Paul continued, "What do you think he wants out of me?"

Merula didn't look up. "Probably messing with you to get on my nerves. Nigel's petty."

"What did you see in him, anyway?"

"Feeling jealous?"

"Call it curiosity. He just doesn't look like your type."

"What do you think is my type?"

Paul shrugged. "Some kind of smart, ruthless rebel."

Merula turned that one over in her head. "Not bad, Finch."

"Well?"

Merula shook her head. "You don't need to know me any better."

Paul turned the heat on his cauldron down a smidgen. He picked up a mortar and pestle and started grinding essence of will-o'-the-wisp into a fine powder. "Y'know, we're going to be spending, what, almost five hours with each other at the Ball." Merula sighed. No, he wasn't giving up that easily. "How do you want to spend the night, then? Dance near each other, but not together? Eat next to each other, but don't look up?"

Merula looked back at her cauldron. She turned a sand timer over, and made a mark on a piece of scroll paper. "You should watch your potion," she said. Then she added, "Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be. We're just doing each other a favor."

"Then let's make it interesting. We give each other our own personal house points for good questions or answers. Whoever has the most at the end of the night at the Ball owes the other one another favor."

"You are _so_ lame."

"You are _so_ boring."

"Finch, we aren't friends. Let's not pretend that we are."

Paul ground harder on the mortar. That one felt personal. That one made it sound like he was begging for her friendship. He wasn't begging for hers; he was offering his. Paul didn't know what he hated more, her disdain now, or the idea of being stuck with five hours of this on the night of the Ball.

The hell with this. He wanted to go, but not this badly. Paul slammed his mortar and pestle down on the work bench.

"Finch!" Snape snapped from across the room. "You will respect your equipment! Ten points from Hufflepuff."

Merula smirked at him. Paul glowered back at her. After Snape looked away, he leaned over and whispered, "Y'know what? Forget it. You can go by yourself. I'll have a better time sitting in my room or lying in a hostel in Hogsmeade. Have fun hanging out with Nigel."

Paul took the jars of essence of shadow and dried will-o'-the-wisp back to the shelves. He breathed slowly, deeply. Why was she so mean all the time? He didn't like missing the Ball, but this had to be better. He sighed. All right, then. He took another deep breath. He checked twice to make sure the ingredients were in the right place, since Snape would dock him more points if they weren't, then came back to the bench. By the time he got there, he was already making plans to cancel the flowers and his tuxedo rental.

Merula was looking at him. He ignored her. "You're serious," she said.

"Yes I am," he said.

"All right." He still ignored her. "I said all right!" she hissed. Paul looked up. "If you're going to hold me hostage about it, here it is. Two years older. Tall, handsome, nice smile. Quidditch rock star. Those were the obvious reasons. And he's ruthless and ambitious, like me." She smiled at the fidgeting that last one generated. Merula paused to check her cauldron. She continued, "He didn't know I existed until I joined the Curse Breaker squad. I thought it might have given me a step up the social ladder. So, why not?" Merula wrinkled her nose, shook her head. "He's not very romantic—"

"You like romance?" Paul was stunned.

"If you tell anyone I said that I'll jam my wand up your nose and _flipendo_ your brain so hard it blows out of both your ears."

Paul gestured zipping his mouth shut. "So, not very romantic..."

"Right. So I met a few more seventh years, but he got angry that I wouldn't teach him any of the spells we're learning as curse breakers. I didn't want to risk getting on Madam Rakepick's bad side. And I wasn't giving up anything without getting something from him first."

"Wow, you really _are_ a romantic, Merula," Paul drawled.

"It's how the world works, Finch."

"Is that why he challenged you to a duel?"

"Not exactly. We were talking about dueling tactics in the common room. Well, I was talking about tactics. He thought talking about it was useless compared to fighting. I pushed it, and he said, 'We'll see who's the better dueler.'" Merula turned down the heat on her cauldron to barely a simmer. She held up her hands and shrugged, a wicked grin on her face.

"Guess you did," Paul said.

"Guess I did."

Paul nodded. "Point to Slytherin. Thanks for answering my question."

"Your turn," Merula said.

"My turn what?"

"You don't get something for nothing, Finch. Tell me what you're most afraid of. And don't tell me it's spiders or You Know Who or any of that other garbage. Let me inside that mushy little brain of yours and tell me what the monster under your bed is."

Paul felt like someone grabbed his heart and turned it to ice. He knew exactly what the answer was. And she knew it. "Cat got your tongue?" she asked. Merula tapped her foot. Her boot sounded more jovial as it slapped the floor this time.

"How do you know I won't lie?" Paul asked, stalling.

"You're you. You'll lie about some things, but this? With your future date? I think you've got more guts than that."

Paul felt like he was a fly standing on the edge of an enchanted web, talking to a beautiful spider. "You'll use it against me some day."

"Probably. Spit it out, already."

"I'm afraid that my worst dreams have come true about Jake. That he became addicted to dark magic, and now he can't get out. Or worse, he's a full-on Death Eater. That he doesn't want to be found, and if... if I ever find him... I won't like what he's become." Paul swallowed. That icy heart that he imagined froze his body all the way out to his toenails.

Merula rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why you'd think that. I mean, it's not like you've wound up in over your head chasing the Cursed Vaults, put your friends in danger, lied to a professor, or done things you never thought you'd do."

It felt like a punch to the gut. Paul said nothing, because she wasn't wrong. He turned back to his cauldron. His infusion was almost clear; he reduced the flame to nothing. He wished he'd never asked her. For a long minute, there was no sound at their table other than potion mixtures boiling inside tinny cauldrons.

"You've really had dreams about him?" she asked.

Paul looked up, surprised. Merula looked... worried, or something. Paul found that hard to believe. He answered, "Yeah. Yeah, I have. My feet are always buried in the ground and I can't reach him. Why?"

"Nothing." Merula cleared her throat and turned back to their textbook. "We need... pixie dust for the final step."

"I'll get it," Paul said. He smiled slightly as he got up from the bench. It wasn't much, but it felt like they connected.


	5. Curse Breakers and OWLs

After classes, most students went back to their dorms, to play Quidditch, sing with frogs, and so on. Paul, Bill Weasley, and Merula gathered with Madam Rakepick on the training grounds outside the castle walls. The fire-haired, fire-willed professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts straightened a dummy used for dueling practice. "Gather 'round, curse breakers," she said. "The Winter Ball is coming up next month. While it's wise to be vigilant at all times, it's especially important at any event like the Ball. Students will have their guard down. Professors will be distracted. As part of your training as curse breakers, the faculty have agreed to enlist your help during the event."

"You're not pulling us out of the Ball!" Merula gasped.

"Settle down, Ms. Snyde. Nothing of the kind. Rather, consider yourselves undercover guardians." She turned to Bill. "Mr. Weasley. If you were an enemy, how would you attack Hogwarts during the Ball?"

Bill frowned. "Well... there are attacks, and there are attacks. A straight attack against the castle would take an army, but it wouldn't take much for someone to poison the water with belch powder... draw the giant squid to the surface of the lake for a while..."

"Release a horde of nifflers from the Magical Creatures paddock," Paul muttered. Merula elbowed him. Rakepick didn't notice.

"... but those are all small. Like vandalism."

"And why would an enemy do something so small?"

"To let you know—no, to show you—that you're vulnerable. That they can get you when and where they want to," Bill finished.

"Well done, Mr. Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor," Rakepick said. "Minor in damage, small and virtually impossible to detect until it's in motion, and minimal or no exposure to our enemy. But fear can be quite a powerful weapon, even in small doses.

"The faculty will take turns chaperoning the Ball and walking the school grounds. There are also more subtle ways to defend a place than guards and walls. That's where you three come in. Your have the eyes and ears of the entire student body. If I were to wager, if something were to happen, you three would know about it before we did. On the night of the Ball, I want you to enjoy yourselves, and also remain aware. Curse breakers are always on watch." She looked at Paul and Merula. "You two are going to the Ball together—"

"How did you know?"

"Don't interrupt me, Mr. Finch. The next one will cost you house points. To answer your question, graduated or not, you're all curse breakers under my leadership. I stay aware of what my charges are doing. As I was saying, neither of you is shy about leaping into the middle of trouble when you see it. Since you'll be together, you can watch each others' backs, but we'll have eyes on less ground than we would if you were dating other people. Remember to be mindful."

"We're not dating," Merula said.

"It's just for the Ball," Paul explained.

"Moving on." Paul thought he saw a grin curl around the corner of Rakepick's mouth. She turned to Bill. "You're going with Miss Haywood." Bill didn't ask how she knew that. "She's quite capable. If something does happen, she'll support you admirably. You have my permission to let her know that you're on an assignment from me, in case she wants to prepare potions that either of you think might help."

She gazed at each of them. "I don't expect we'll have anything worse than a prank from Peeves. But we haven't heard anything from the Red Wizard since you two released Miss Haywood from the portrait, so stay alert. Follow your instincts. If you see anything, hear anything, have a gut feeling, do something. If you're alone, act. If there's another student nearby, have them get a professor while _you_ intervene. You're all fully qualified and experienced curse breakers."

"Yes, ma'am," they all said.

They spent the next two hours practicing dueling and defense against the dark arts. By the time they were finished, Paul wand hand was stiff and he had a Swiss cheese of _incendio_ burns on the arm of his robe in dire need of a _reparo_ spell. The three students walked back toward the castle as Madam Rakepick left to meet with professor Dumbledore.

"Is it me or do they want three extra hands in case Tulip throws a dungbomb onto the dance floor?" Bill asked.

"It won't be Tulip. Andre told me she's been looking forward to the Ball for weeks," Paul said.

"Whatever," Merula said. "I'll keep my eyes open but I'm not spoiling my night playing rent-a-cop."

Paul told himself nothing would happen. The sinking feeling in his belly reminded him that he hadn't had a year yet that ended without a curse, a fight, or some other crisis.

. . .

Six weeks passed in the blink of an eye.

Paul and the rest of the fifth-years buried themselves in preparing for their OWLs. Paul studied his brains out. He ate with a book in his lap, barely slept, and made up exercises for practical tests while walking between classes.

He was pleasantly surprised that Merula kept going with their getting-to-know-each-other game. She didn't like opening up, but she loved a challenge, and she promised that she was going to wipe the floor with his ass. They had three lunches together—two awkward, one really not that bad—and three study sessions for their Potions, Astronomy, and Charms OWLs. Merula "accidentally" hit him with a knockback jinx during their Charms study, so he returned the favor by hitting her with a knock-knee hex "by mistake." Among other things, he learned her birth month (November, she wouldn't give him the day); favorite color (purple); where she was from (New Forest, on the Hampshire side); and whether she had any siblings (none); while she learned his birthday (12 May); favorite color (red); where he was from (Lancaster); his favorite wizard or witch (Newt Scamander); and his favorite class (Introduction to Magical Medicine, taught by Madam Pomfrey).

He was unpleasantly surprised that he kept running into Nigel. He interrupted him while he was studying in the library. Twice, he yelled, "Curse breaker! Watch out!" when he spotted Paul in the corridors between classes. He even buzzed Paul's seat during a Quidditch match and cost Slytherin a score. Paul shook it off. Nigel was annoying, but he was graduating anyway. Paul had faced much worse in the last five years.

And he wasn't as scary as OWLs. Paul was a walking ball of stress by the first day of exams.

The first week went well, all things considered. He faced many of his toughest classes, but he knew them all well, especially Medicine and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Paul made it a point to get in some zephyrball drills to blow off steam between tests. He imagined that the ball was Nigel's head and he hit some really wicked shots.

Paul went into Hogsmeade the following weekend to pick up his tux and get a haircut. When he got back to Hogwarts, he had realized to his horror that he'd completely forgotten about his acne—which had gotten worse from all the junk food he was eating while studying. With his tux slung over one arm and his shoes dangling from the other, he begged Madam Pomfrey for a potion that would take care of it. She laughed kindly. He wasn't the only one who'd asked. She gave him week's worth of magical face wipes in exchange for a week of his time after school to make more. Pitts was more than happy to get rid of him for a while.

The next week was brutal. Paul had to do well in Potions to supplement Medicine, and felt like he walked on a tightrope through the entire exam. He liked Care of Magical Creatures, but he just didn't have the touch that some of the other students had or the time to do better. He found Astronomy rather dry, and he knew his grade would be fair at best. Once he got to History of Magic, he felt like he was home free. He was rubbish at it, but Paul had already decided after the first term to tank the class so that he could put more energy into Medicine and Potions.

After his History OWL was done, Paul walked out the front door of the castle, flopped backward onto the grass, and yelled, "My name is Paul Finch, and I survived my OWLs!" It was a bloody miracle. No duels, no Cursed Vaults, no one trying to kill him, no one pranking his tuxedo. The sun shone on his face and a warm wind brushed it like feathers. For a blessed five minutes, all was right with the world.

During lunch, dozens of owls from the florists in Hogsmeade swept into the Great Hall to drop off flowers for the Ball. A long-eared owl dropped two packages in front of him, a big one lightly wrapped in tissue, and one other, about the size of a bludger. Paul ran back to his dorm to unwrap them. The first one was a Merula's flowers. She chose a wrist corsage with an arrangement of ivory flowers, accented with tiny wildflowers, baby's breath and ivory ribbon. A rose gold butterfly about the size of his thumbnail sat among the flowers. As he picked up the corsage, the butterfly floated to the next flower over. Paul thought it was one of the coolest things ever. Paul's boutonniere was an ivory flower, matching the largest flowers in her corsage, with some baby's breath and a few tiny rose gold beads.

The second one was a stainless steel flask about the size of his palm. It came with a note: "In case of stress." Paul frowned. Just in case someone was pulling a prank on him, he gave it a quick swish with his wand to check for magic. Nothing. He opened it, sniffed and shuddered as the scent of Scotch whiskey overwhelmed him. Paul laughed. He said to himself, "Whew! Very funny, Jae."

He cast a freshening charm on the flowers so that they would keep until... he checked his watch. Four hours until he had to get ready. Paul's heart pounded. A first date. At the Midsummer Ball. With Merula. He had no clue what to expect.


	6. All Dressed Up

Dozens of students dressed to the nines milled around the entrance courtyard, hanging out or walking back and forth to get their pictures taken by the lakeside in front of the castle. Paul had never seen so many good-looking people in one place. The seventh years looked like movie stars. The sixth years looked like young models. And even fifth years like himself looked pretty darned good. Beautiful and enchanting, graceful and captivating, the young women all evoked thoughts of spring and summer, like tulip fields and wildflowers. The guys looked like dark, dashing, handsome shadows. Most wore black tuxedos, though a few wore white or off-white jackets. Many of the young men added a splash of color in their tie or vest.

Paul thought he'd never looked better. Like, ever. He had settled on a sleek black tuxedo, classic silk and satin, but with slightly narrower, more modern lapels and fit. Both Andre and the tailor agreed that it made the best of his tall, lean frame. Paul liked the contrast with the ivory bow tie, vest and boutonniere—point Slytherin for Merula's choice of colors. He thought his long hair gave a fun twist to the formal look of his tux, too. Like, who's this _arteest_ and how did he crash our party? Andre had observed that Merula didn't seem very classical in her tastes, either, so his tux would probably complement her dress perfectly.

Paul stood by the staircase where the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students where coming up from their houses, near some other students who were doing the same. Both houses were very particular about their secret entrances, so no one from the other houses were allowed to meet them downstairs. Rowan and Liz waited with him; Liz said Merula would be up soon. Liz looked lovely in a fire-red dress, while Rowan looked dapper in a black tuxedo with red cummerbund, handkerchief and bow tie that matched Liz's dress.

Paul glanced over his shoulder as someone came up. It was one of the Slytherin seventh years. The young man hurried off in the direction of Gryffindor tower. Paul looked at Rowan and Liz and shrugged.

"Are you nervous?" Liz asked.

"Very," Paul said.

"About what?" Rowan asked. "How the night will go? How you look? The food? The music? The—" Rowan asked.

"Stop giving me ideas! I'm sorry... I'm just..."

"Nervous," Liz said.

Yes. That. Paul had never been on a date with someone he didn't like before. In order, he was worried about how the night would go, how he looked, and whether or not some new crisis would spring up like it always did.

He glanced over his shoulder as someone else came upstairs. Paul's breath caught in his throat. He saw Merula, the girl who'd made him roll his eyes for the past four and a half years. The pain in his neck, the ache in his belly, and the thorn in his side. If they'd been dueling, she would have knocked him completely out with one shot.

Merula's normally unruly hair had gone from messy to mesmerizing, untamed because nothing and no one could tame her. Her dress flowed from a wrapped teal bodice that left her shoulders bare to jade to turquoise at her feet. Soft touches of rose gold made her skin glow: her signature splash of hair color teased subtle highlights of it that lit up her hazel eyes; a necklace of delicate leaves complemented her graceful neck; even her shoes, peeking out from the edge of her dress, gave a hint of shimmer. A pair of glittering diamond earrings framed her face, giving her normally razor-sharp eyes a whimsical sparkle. Paul couldn't believe his eyes. Merula looked like young Aphrodite at Midsummer.

He realized he was staring at her.

Actually, they were both staring at each other.

"_Ahem!_" Liz said.

Just enough to make Liz chuckle, both of them jumped and walked over to each other. A slight wobble showed that Merula was more used to boots than heels. Up close, she looked breathtaking. Neither of them seemed to know what to do next. They weren't dating. Paul offered a light hug and that worked.

Paul stammered, "Merula, you look incredible." Ugh! He sounded like such a dork!

Merula smiled and rolled her eyes. She seemed embarrassed. "Thank you," she said. She feigned brushing dust off his shoulder—at least, he hoped it was feigned. Her touch lingered on his sleeve, and his heart jumped. Then her swagger came back. "You shine up well, Finch."

"Come on. If we're hanging out tonight, call me Paul."

"That's fair. You shine up well, _Paul_." She shook her head. "That's going to take getting used to."

Paul shrugged. He held up the corsage. "May I?"

"I love your flowers. You've got great taste, Merula," Liz said.

Merula gave him her hand. Paul realized that his were sweating, but she didn't seem to notice. After he finished, Merula touched the petals, turning the corsage over and gazing at it. She smiled and lifted her eyebrows in approval. "It didn't fall off, and you didn't cut off the blood to my wrist. Did you practice?"

"With Penny and Tonks." And even Rowan. Paul tried so hard to get it right that even the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff had offered advice.

The butterfly in her corsage suddenly took flight. Merula gasped. Her smile lit up her face. The butterfly flew up to about her eye level, then gave a little dance and alighted among the flowers.

"You've made a new friend!" Paul said.

Merula just smiled but didn't say anything. Paul thought she had another secret she was keeping. Rowan said, "We're going to get our pictures. Do you want to join us?"

Paul said to Merula, "Bill told me that there'll be a rush on pictures later. The sunset's gorgeous but the line gets long."

"I want the sunset," Merula said.

Liz said, "More pictures for us, then. See you later!" They headed down toward the lakeside.

Before Paul could ask, Merula said, "Let's walk around. I want the whole red carpet experience."

"I can interview you for The Daily Prophet if you want."

"Point Hufflepuff if you do."

"Ms. Snyde! Paul Finch, Daily Prophet. Everyone's buzzing about your dress—"

"As they should."

"But isn't your favorite color purple? Why green?"

"Ah! So glad you noticed. There's a theme there, Paul. You'll have to figure it out for yourself."

"Interesting!" Paul made a mental note of that. "So you've just finished your fifth year at Hogwarts. You've just finished your OWLs. How do you think you did?"

"I crushed them! Look out, world. Merula Snyde is the next big thing to come out of Hogwarts."

"World, get ready! And you recently helped rescue Beatrice Haywood from _inside a painting_? Do you have any advice for your fans?"

"Kids, when your parents say 'don't touch,' you'd better listen to them. Curse breakers don't go on trees."

"Certainly not like you. Thank you, miss Snyde, and have a wonderful evening."

"And you too." Merula clapped. "Pffft! You earned that one. You could catch up to my score if you did that all night."

"Haven't got enough gas in the tank for that."

"Enough what in the where?"

Paul had forgotten she didn't know Muggledom like he did. "Um... energy. Stamina. I can't be someone else for that long." Still, getting along with her was a welcome change. Paul hoped it kept going.

They walked around the grounds outside the front gate of the castle. At the bottom of the hill, by the lake, a group of students milled around getting their pictures taken. Liz and Rowan were waiting in line. Merula pointed out that it was Barnaby and his friend Lawrence's turn. Barnaby's classic-cut black tuxedo suited him perfectly. He looked like a handsome mountain. Paul waved to Bill and Penny as they headed back inside. Penny looked stunning in a strapless dress in royal azure blue with a wide blue and gold belt across her waist. Paul thought Bill looked more than a little odd in a brown tuxedo with a plaid vest and two sets of ruffles. The good news was that Bill wore it like he'd waited his whole life for this chance. He grinned at Paul and Merula and waved right back at them. Penny waved too and wrapped her arm around Bill's.

"I'll never understand the Weasleys," Merula said.

"I stopped trying to understand people a long time ago. Especially at Hogwarts. It's easier to roll with it."

"He looks like his mother stitched together a tuxedo from old drapes."

"If you say one cross word to them—"

"Lighten up! I'm saying it to you, not to them. And I'm not wrong."

No, she wasn't. But Bill wasn't the only one with a colorful outfit, either. Some of the students studying Wizard Fashion looked like they'd stepped off the runway from an avant-garde exhibition. "As long as they're having fun, it's all good."

"I will get one snarky comment out of you before the night's over."

Paul laughed. "I'll give you a point if you do."

They walked around some more, admired a few more dresses and tuxedos, and chatted up some of their classmates. Paul noticed that a lot of the students were heading inside. He checked the time. "It's quarter to 7:00. We should go in."

They walked back across the courtyard and into the entrance hall. Late-afternoon light streamed through the windows, turning the normally imposing chamber into one that seemed to leap into the sky. House banners flanked the main staircase, and multicolored flower petals dotted the floor.

Bill touched Paul's arm as they came in; Paul hadn't seen him. "Wait a minute," Bill said quietly.

"What is it?" Merula asked.

"Just wait."

"It's incredible," Penny said.

Bill pointed to a single flower petal that floated toward the floor. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. As it touched the ground, all the flower petals exploded into the air, rushing up far above the grand staircase. Paul felt like he was inside a brilliant, rainbow snow globe. The petals began falling like spring snowflakes. People around the room applauded and began walking up to the Great Hall.

"I love Hogwarts!" Paul laughed.

"Too right!" Bill agreed.

Bill offered Penny his arm and they started up the stairs. Paul did the same for Merula. "For your last walk on the red carpet?" he asked.

"Weird. But okay," she said.

As they climbed the stairs, Paul was surprised how comfortable he felt with Merula's arm in his. She seemed to be having a good time. Paul knew he was. She wasn't acting like it felt weird. Maybe like he pretended he was a reporter, she was pretending she liked him. Her butterfly took flight again and flew among the flower petals that fell near her.

He got more and more excited as he neared the top of the staircase. Nobody would tell him what the inside of the Great Hall would look like. Halloween and Christmas always looked delightful, but rumor had it that they were nothing compared to the Farewell Feast. Penny gasped as she reached the top of the stairs ahead of them. Then Paul and Merula arrived, and they did the same.


	7. The Great Hall

The Great Hall looked like the inside of a magical forest. Where pines had stood in around the room at Christmastime, now deciduous trees seemed to grow out of the very floor, their branches spreading into a canopy that reached into the rafters. They looked real! Paul could only laugh as he tried and failed to imagine how they did it. Purple wisteria and ghostly white witch's hair lichen hung from the walls and windows. Through the branches, leaves, and the seemingly invisible ceiling, they could see still-brilliant sky of early evening. Shafts of light through the trees lit the path between the tables. The floor was covered in what looked and felt like the mossy, leafy floor of a forest. Paul swept his hand through it and came away with what smelled and felt like fresh dew, and the tiniest flecks of silver, gold, and house colors. The dew and the flecks faded away. His shoes didn't get wet, and neither did Merula's feet or her dress. Lustrous red, orange, and gold tablecloths and centerpieces that overflowed with wildflowers decorated the massive banquet tables. On the tables, Paul noticed small, ever-filling bowls of nectar, to which live fairies flew for a drink. Here and there, he saw glowing and fading pinpricks of light from the fairies as they buzzed lazily around room. At the far end of the Hall, the professors' bench appeared to float over a pond that stretched from one side of the room to the other. Behind them, on the edge of the pond, members of the underclass orchestra played soft flute music that set the mood perfectly. An illusory family of deer walked between the musicians, nibbling at food only they could see.

Paul's jaw dropped as he actually heard Merula _giggle_. He looked at her and saw a few fairies buzzing around her. They took turns swooping to her in playful bows, then flew away. Paul's heartstrings pulled as she covered her mouth. Was she going to cry? She looked overwhelmed with...joy!

He saw her again for the first time. The graceful green dress. Her butterfly. The gold in her hair. The leafy necklace. Paul leaned over and murmured, "You're the queen of the fairies."

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I am." She took a deep breath. "If you tell anyone that I acted like this—"

"Acted like what? I have no idea."

"Good. Keep it that way." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Stop smiling."

"Who, me?"

"You! You... goof."

"I'm not smiling." And his smile got even wider. Merula rolled her eyes.

Charlie waved to Bill from their table. Paul and Merula followed Penny and Bill through the crowd, taking time to enjoy everything to see in the room. Merula and Paul had agreed to eat dinner with Paul's friends, then Ismelda and her date would switch seats with them and they would have dessert with Merula's friends.

"Merula! And Paul Finch, Curse Breaker! Welcome to the Midsummer Ball!" Nigel's voice boomed from off to their left.

"Merlin's beard," Merula said under her breath. Paul did the same with one of his father's favorite Muggle swear words.

Nigel weaved his way through the crowd from the other side of the Hall. His tuxedo looked like a photo negative of most of the others. He wore off-white from head to toe, with a black shirt, black vest, and a sky-blue tie and handkerchief. His hair looked even wavier than usual. Behind him, Paul noticed some confused looks from the table with Merula's friends. He saw a young girl wearing a sky-blue dress sitting next to an empty chair. She looked familiar but Paul couldn't place her.

"Practicing for your career as a greeter at ASDA, Nigel?" Merula asked.

He chuckled. "I only wanted to say hello before things got under way. You look lovely, Merula. And you look splendid, Paul."

Nigel started to reach over to shake Paul's hand, when Merula said cooly, "In the six weeks since you ditched me, you haven't spoken to me once. What do you want?"

Nigel sighed. "I'm sorry, Merula. I truly am. I lost my temper, then I lost my composure, and then I lost my honor. You—" He looked ill. "You are a better dueler than I."

Merula didn't seem to buy his apologies, but she took in his groveling. "That's more like it."

Paul thought Nigel would go back to his table, but instead, he asked Paul, "What do you think of the Midsummer Ball?" His emotionless voice showed nothing, but the rage in his eyes made Paul think their rivalry was about to break into the open.

Paul kept his tone even. "It's amazing. I always seem to say that about Hogwarts."

"Indeed. The surprises never end. There's always another adventure, behind every door. Keep your wand ready."

Paul gave him a look he reserved for ice knights. "We always do."

Merula linked her arm around Paul's again. "_Boys_, no one cares about you whipping out your wands. And I'm hungry." She looked at Paul. "Let's go sit down."

"Sounds good to me," Paul said. He shrugged at Nigel.

Nigel smirked. "See you later," he said, and turned back to his table.

Once Merula had turned away, she said, "Ugh. He's like one of those green globs from Creatures class."

"Bundimun."

"Right. Think you'll be dueling him later?"

"Oh yeah. It's when, not if."

"I've got your back if he brings friends."

Paul looked at her. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Merula grinned slyly. "Don't get any ideas. I'd kick his bundimun for nothing."

The smiling faces as they sat down at their table were much more inviting. Going around the table to Paul's left, Liz sat with Rowan; Penny sat with Bill; Tulip sat with Andre; Badeea sat with Ben; Barnaby sat with Lawrence, who was a fifth-year Gryffindor who also loved magical creatures; Charlie sat with a sixth-year Ravenclaw named Sophie, who wanted to be a chef, and couldn't wait to see the food for the feast; Jae sat with Abby, a fifth-year Gryffindor who wanted to take over Knockturn Alley too; Tonks sat with Jenna, a seventh-year Slytherin who had started her own rock band; and Diego sat with Emmy, a fifth-year Slytherin who liked magical architecture.

The student orchestra quieted down as professor Dumbledore walked to the lectern. Paul still got chills whenever he saw him. To Paul, Dumbledore was a living legend. He admired him and was scared of him at the same time. Dumbledore lifted a goblet. The students all lifted their own goblets, magically filled with the festive beverages of their choice. Paul's was champagne. He knew he'd only get one glass of it. They couldn't have all the students getting hammered, after all. After that, he would switch to cold sweet tea.

Dumbledore said, "Welcome, welcome all to this year's Midsummer Ball. To those of you who will soon graduate, we will soon say thank you, good luck, and farewell—but not tonight! Tonight is a celebration for everything you have achieved, every fond memory, and every friendship forged, here at Hogwarts. For those of you who have just finished your OWLs, think of this as a small taste of the challenges and the joys to come. The best is yet to be. Congratulations and enjoy!" He sipped from his cup, everyone else did the same and applauded.


	8. Dinner with Merula

The underclass orchestra played soft music as the delicious feast appeared. Paul had seen feasts at Hogwarts for the past four and a half years. Every time, he was still overwhelmed by the sheer bounty of food. He didn't know where to start, but he knew he couldn't go wrong.

Paul sampled a slice of mustard-crusted Angus prime rib and a slice of lamb. The prime rib was glazed with a red sauce with a gentle aftertaste of mixed berries and nuts. Paul caught a scent of toffee, too. Someone said that that the glaze was madeira, but Paul had no idea what that was. The lamb caught him by surprise, with a hot pepper marinade that had an aftertaste of ginger and almonds. He made room for a fresh lobster tail drizzled with melted butter, and finished his plate with a pile of mixed salad greens. Unlike other feasts, Paul made it a point not to stuff himself with seconds or thirds. He wanted to dance his socks off tonight.

Merula's goblet filled with cider for the toast. After that, it changed to a fizzy concoction that tasted like pineapple juice mixed with lemonade and a dash of lime juice, which she said was a family recipe nicknamed Summer Punch. Everyone wanted to try a sip—Merula told them to give her a chance first, then grudgingly passed it around. The house elves had her covered as another goblet appeared in place of hers instantly. She enjoyed the herbed prime rib and creamy horseradish sauce, along with a slice of venison dressed with basil pesto and a touch of lemon. She rounded out her plate with a helping of Ayrshire potatoes au gratin and some baked field mushrooms with the heavenly scent of rosemary and thyme with the added bite of garlic, dressed with melted cheese. Then she finished a sourdough roll and butter with a teaspoon of heather honey on top.

Since they were eating dinner with Paul's friends, that made Merula their special guest. She relished the attention. Paul thought that his nickname of "the Queen of Hogwarts" fit well.

"Merula, where are you from?" Penny asked.

"My family has an old house inside New Forest. It's a few hundred years old."

"I'll bet that's beautiful at this time of year."

She nodded, smiling. "It's just about perfect." Her smile faded. "_But_, I live in London now, with my aunt and uncle. Which is all right. The house elves are still taking care of the old place. My aunt and uncle stop in to check on them while when I'm up here, and I stop by at the end of term."

"Do you like the woods?" Paul asked. Merula nodded as she chewed on a piece of venison. "We go hiking in the forest of Bowland all the time."

"There are some good stone circles up there," Merula said.

Rowan looked up. "The Ghost Circles of Lancashire?"

"My—" Merula stopped cold. Paul felt a chill. She feigned clearing her throat. "My parents and I went to see them one summer when I was little. But they move. You need to be at the right place, at the right time, with the right magic." She shoved another bite of food into her mouth. She seemed angry. After a moment, she swallowed, then she added, "I haven't felt anything like that before or since." That sounded better. Paul wasn't sure anyone else had noticed, but he'd been hanging out with her pretty regularly and was starting to get a handle on her moods.

"Didn't you take Ancient Runes this year?" Paul asked.

"And Ancient Magic."

"And she's the only one who never fell asleep in History of Magic," Rowan said. Paul looked at him. "I checked."

"Merula's really into old magic," Tulip said.

"Old magic is the best magic," Merula said

"Technically, they say that all magic is the same. It's all how you use it," Rowan said.

Merula shook her head. "That's just a rule of thumb. The books say old magic is more raw. I think it's more pure. The stones were here before people were here. The spells and rituals were practiced before wizards knew how to write them down. Minds were more open. Imaginations were wilder." She chuckled at the looks she was getting. "You don't know unless you _know_."

"What's it like?" Diego asked.

Merula closed her eyes. "As you get close, it feels like there's a mist in the air. It's fresh, from everything growing around them. If you cast a spell, it feels like you did it twice. It's your wand and your body feeling the stone's magic. The wind feels sounds like you can hear it singing. If the sun's out, you think the sunshine's going to lift you off the ground."

You could hear a pin drop at the table.

"Then my parents did a ritual spell, and we could see them. Blink your eyes and boom. There were six of them. Ancient. Little pits and scratches from age, but no cracks."

"What happened then?" Paul asked.

"We touched each of the stones in turn. They felt like they were alive. Like when just barely don't hear thunder from far away, but you know it happened. I could hear my parents whispering when they did, but they never told me the words. When we touched the last one, I heard the wind again, and then, pop, they were gone."

"Wow," Rowan said.

"That's pretty wild," Charlie agreed.

"Love the balance," Paul said. Merula looked at him. "Earth from the stone. Water from the mist. Air from the wind. And fire from you." He tapped his heart.

The corner of Merula's mouth ticked up. "Three points to Hufflepuff," she said.

"Do you want to study old magic after you graduate?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not just going to study it. I'm going to find it, and I'm going to use it. I'm going to bring ancient magic back and show people what we forgot."

"Wicked!" Tonks said.

"Spoken like a true witch," Merula agreed.

Merula reminded Paul of a female Indiana Jones, the hero of his favorite Muggle movie series. Going into ancient places, experiencing ancient secrets. Paul said, "That's just awesome. Five to Slytherin."

"I'm kicking your ass, Hufflepuff!" Merula said.

"What are you two talking about?" Bill asked.

Paul explained their little game. Everyone around the table got a kick out of it. By now, the score was Slytherin 24, Hufflepuff 10. Merula smiled as Paul took ribbing from his friends for not keeping the match closer. As they settled back down, she said, "The study of old magic at Durmstrang is legendary. I wanted to go there _bad_ when I was little. Someday, I'm going there for advanced training."

"Do you speak Russian?" Paul asked.

"_Konechno, ya govoryu po-russki, glupyy mal'chik._"

"That's a yes. Too cool. Five Slytherin."

"What did you say?" Andre asked.

"I said, 'Of course I speak Russian, you silly boy.'" Everyone laughed. "I'm pretty rusty. My parents taught me for a few years. The same day that I received my Hogwarts letter, I received an apology letter from Durmstrang. We only take a limited number of international students. We're sure you'll be a great success. Blah blah blah." She sighed. "Could do worse than Hogwarts. I never understood why they invited me to come here instead."

"You need to learn somewhere," Rowan said. "Better here than—" He cut off.

"Someplace underground?" Merula asked with a grin.

"You seem to know a lot about it," Ben said warily.

"Not as much as you think. My parents took me to Borgin and Burke's for the first time when I turned seven—"

"Bought you your first shrunken head for your birthday?" Paul quipped.

"Asshole. It was look, but do... not... touch. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't scare me the first time. But they weren't scared, so that made it easier."

The table turned quiet at the mention of Knockturn Alley, but Paul's curiosity was piqued to learn more about this side of Merula's life. "So is there an underground for teaching magic? Dark or otherwise?" he asked.

"Any witch or wizard will teach you some nifty spell they created for a few galleons. As for dark magic... let's just say there wouldn't be a lot of dark wizards if there wasn't." Silence settled around the table. Paul felt a chill run down his spine.

"BOO!" Merula cried, and Paul actually jumped in his seat. The roar of laughter at the table almost lifted it off the ground. Merula and a few others clapped her hands. It felt like a breath of fresh air washed over them.

Paul held up his hands. "All right, you got me good. Point to Slytherin."

"Come on. That deserves at least ten!" Merula said.

"Give her some more, Paul," Barnaby said.

"If you don't, I will!" Jae added.

"I'm the one you made jump!" Paul said. More laughter. "I'll give you five. It was pretty funny."

"Hey Paul," Tulip called from across the table. Paul raised his eyebrows. "Your date's pretty cool."

"She really is," Paul said. He nudged Merula with his shoulder.

Merula held up her hands. "What? It took you five years to come around? Come on!" A few of them moaned and threw napkins at her. Merula blew it off, throwing them back. From up close, Paul thought she was blushing.


	9. Dessert with Paul

Paul shooed Merula's butterfly off his head as they walked over to Merula's friends' table for dessert. Ismelda gave Paul and Merula a wicked grin as she and her friend Ethan walked past them. Paul wondered if she'd sharpened up the table for them. Merula must have had the same idea, because as they sat down, Merula said, "Everyone, this is Paul. Go easy on him."

People laughed around the table. Merula whispered, "You nervous?"

Don't show weakness. "Nope."

"Good. Just remember. You're sitting at a table of sharks."

"And their preferred dessert is badger. No problem."

"Very good, Mr. Finch," she said, doing her best McGonagall imitation.

They got to know each other as sweet treats, tea and coffee appeared on the table. Paul caught the names of Merula's closest friends, about half of them. Paul sat next to Lilah, a soft-spoken, cooly confident Slytherin who wanted to work for Gringotts; she sat next to Simon, a former Ravenclaw who graduated the year before and worked for the Ministry now as a junior diplomat. Near Simon sat Deborah, a gorgeous, aloof Ravenclaw who wanted to make even better wands than Ollivanders; she was with was Megan, a sweet Hufflepuff who already had a business plan for importing the exotic shells and cores to build them. Then there was good old Nigel. He wanted to start his own business as a "Dark Arts Defender," whatever that meant. He was with Laurel, Gryffindor's second-team seeker, who seemed to be Nigel's biggest fan. On the other side of Laurel sat Steven, a Casanova of a Slytherin who was learning to make exotic perfumes and potions; Steven's friend Victor was an elegant Ravenclaw who hoped to be a concert violinist. Two seats over on Merula's right sat Gabi, the take-no-prisoners captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She already had a slot waiting for her on the Edinburgh Rangers when she graduated. Between Gabi and Merula sat John, a stubble-bearded marine magizoologist who worked with hippocampi and sea serpents.

Paul chose a slice of three-layer chocolate cake with white vanilla cream frosting, with a side of mixed berries. Merula chose a slice of Eton mess cake layered with fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

Nigel didn't waste any time breaking out the needles. "Paul, what's it like living around Muggles? Are they obsessed with their little boxes?" He mimed holding something in his hands and tapping away with his thumbs.

"You mean their phones? A little. It's probably as close to a magic wand as a Muggle's ever seen. I'd say it feels... more dangerous. More dangerous and slower. They use machines for everything, so it's cars instead of brooms, and electricity and gasoline instead of magic. Which means you wind up with pollution and preservatives. There are lot more of them, too. It always feels crowded."

"It must've been hard growing up around them."

"Well, my dad's wizard. It was like living in a two-language household."

"Your mum must be good at keeping a secret."

"Just as good as we are. It's like avoiding a topic with your relatives around the holidays."

"That must be frustrating," Deborah said.

"A little. It's one thing when you're around people you don't like. Around your friends it's harder. Once, one of our neighbors had a flat tire—it's like having all the bristles in your broom fall out. I could've cast _reparo_ to fix it, but..."

"What a shame," Victor said.

"Was your mother shocked when she found out?" Steven asked.

"Actually... I'd say 'fascinated.'" People looked up around the table. Paul grinned. This was one of his favorite stories. "Mom's a nurse. They were out hiking. My dad was already going to ask her to marry him, so he was trying to figure out how to tell her. She slipped down a hill and twisted her ankle pretty badly. They were about ten kilometers away from help. She's there telling him out to make a splint, how to help her walk, and he takes out his wand and says, 'There's something I need to tell you.' He heals her and says, 'I'm a wizard. Will you marry me?' First she says, 'Yes!' and then she went right to, 'What else can you do?'" People laughed around the table.

"What does your dad do, anyway?" Merula asked.

"He's an innkeeper. 'Books and Beds.' From outside, it looks like a tiny little place in an old building at the end of an alley, maybe three or four rooms upstairs. That's how he keeps it out of sight from most Muggles. The name comes from the library on the first floor, of books he and his parents collected. For wizards, the book shelves in the back open up to the rest of the inn.

"Mum was on a hiking trip through Lancashire. She likes to read and she likes cozy little hotels, so that's how they met. My dad worked there for his parents as a hiking guide and doing odd jobs. He led her and some other guests out on a hike and fell for her from the start. They hit it off and that was that."

"How does she like the Statute of Secrecy?" Lilah asked.

"Well... she lives with it. She understands it, but she takes care of people for a living. Sometimes, really sick people. Magic could heal some of them, or at least help."

"How does she cope?"

"Karate. She beats the stuffings out of a heavy bag in our garage. 'Bloody Statute.' 'Damned war.' 'Stupid Ministry.' She meditates, too. Sometimes we all meditate together."

Lilah nodded. "She sounds like an exceptional Muggle."

"I'm a fan."

"That's a great story," Nigel said. "So, speaking of exceptional... there was a rumor going around when you came to Hogwarts that you're mad. You've been fighting curses since you walked in the door, you're perpetually in detention, and you're here with Merula, so would you say that's accurate?"

"If being here with Merula's madness, I don't want to be sane," Paul replied.

"Point Hufflepuff," Merula added.

"We're all a little mad," Steven said with a smile.

"Thank you, Mad Hatter," Lilah said dryly. Steven raised his glass to her.

"Seriously, though, I've just done what I had to do," Paul said.

"So are you cursed?" Nigel pressed.

Paul shrugged. "Eh. Fighting curses sucks, but breaking them is great. I will say that I appreciate every moment on the other side. Every. Moment. Sandwiches taste better. Magic feels stronger! I even like the down time in professor Binns' class." Most of the table moaned. "And y'know, detention's really not bad, especially when you think about the stuff I pulled that got me there. It's a fun crowd."

"What about your brother?"

Paul stared at Nigel for a second before answering. He really went there. Paul was always ready for someone to bring it up, but nobody had been that rude about it in years. He sensed a flare of anger from Merula, hot as an _incendio_ spell. It gave him a shot of encouragement. Paul recovered and said, "I wish I knew. A lot of people do. Some think he's a Death Eater. Others think he was trying to stop Death Eaters and he got in over his head. Beyond that, it's a great big mystery." He wasn't saying anything that anyone didn't already know.

"Where do you think he is?"

"What part of 'great big mystery' did you miss?" Merula asked.

"I get that it's a mystery, but I want to know what the man who knew him better than anybody else thinks."

Paul nodded. "I did know him better than anybody. I think he's out there trying to stop whoever's opening the vaults. And if there's anything I can do to help along the way, I'm in it."

"Badass. Give him a point, Merula," Gabi said.

"Done," Merula said, grinning.

"So do you want to a curse breaker after you graduate?" Gabi asked.

Nigel had been about to open his mouth again. Paul got the impression she wanted to shut him up. He smiled. "I want to be a nurse, like my mum and Madam Pomfrey. I want to spend a year or two abroad with _Sorciers sans Frontières_ or the Wizard Peace Corps. Then I want to set up a clinic for underprivileged wizardfolk back home."

"Ugh. He's so... _nice_," Nigel said.

"Isn't he sweeeeet?" Steven asked.

"Never knew a Hufflepuff who wasn't," Deborah said.

"Haven't met Tonks, have you?" Gabi observed.

Merula was frowning. "Since when do you speak French?" she asked.

"_J'ai toujours parlé français... fille idiote_." He winked at her. _I've always spoken French... silly girl. _"Mom's parents are from Calais. She grew up speaking both languages, so I did too."

Merula chuckled and bit her lip. She looked at her friends, jerked her chin at him, and said, "He stole my line. Point to Hufflepuff for being a man of the world." She winked back at him.

Paul blushed scarlet. Steven said, "Give that poor boy some ice water. I think he's going to catch fire!" The table laughed again. Paul rolled with the joke, pulling at his collar and fanning himself as Lilah nudged his glass over to him.


	10. Tearing Up the Dance Floor

Merula's friends loved animated, often pointed conversation. Paul missed the ice knights and boggarts. He was happy when the spotlight finally drifted to other people and he could just throw in an occasional two pennies' worth from the background.

As dessert finished, the tables were cleared to the back and the sides. People started milling around the dance floor while others went to stretch their legs or got a head start on the sunset picture rush. In place of the orchestra, a band called the Bent-Winged Snitches began warming up.

Paul thought about sneaking off to take a swig from Jae's flask. He decided against it. Once they started dancing he'd feel better. He looked at Merula as their table pushed back. He rolled his eyes.

"Nice job, badger," she said.

"It's Paul." He shook his head. "Whew. Rough crowd."

"What's wrong with them?"

"I don't know. They're not... nice. And Nigel's an asshole."

"You knew that already. He was there because the group didn't want to take sides, him or me."

"I guess I understand that."

"As for the others, just because they're not cuddly doesn't mean they're not your friends. Off the top of my head? Lilah and Gabi definitely liked you. Probably Steven. Just don't get in their way."

Paul chuckled. "It's a different crowd than I'm used to. But I guess that's a good thing."

"I felt like I was buried in a fluff ball with yours."

"Was it rough?"

"It's softer than I like. I need bite. You know what I mean?"

"Kind of."

The fire lamps around the room dimmed and became shifting shades of rainbow colors. The lead guitar player played a sharp lick that made the fairies fly for cover. The lead singer of Snitches took the microphone. "Hello, hello, hello, HOGWARTS!" The crowd cheered. Paul and Merula rushed the dance floor as the rest of the crowd did too.

The Snitches rocked the house. Paul and Merula tore up the room like nobody's business. Merula had been looking forward to this dance her whole life. Paul had five years of Cursed Vault steam to blow off and tonight was the night. And they'd both spent the past five years trying to outdo each other and neither of them was going to let that happen tonight. Merula tossed her hair, spun her hips and threw out attitude that dared Paul to challenge her. Paul imagined that his long locks and blue eyes looked good. He rolled with whatever Merula gave him, played with it and sent it back to her, sort of like dueling without the bruises. He faked it 'til he made it, playing with swagger when she was fierce, smolder when she was sultry, and improvising his own attitude when it felt right. Sometimes it made her laugh, and that was okay too. They were having a blast.

A few times, the press of the crowd pushed them close together. The first time, they did the best they could to ignore it. The second time, they danced close until they nudged their way over to a spot with more room. Then the Snitches played one of their most popular songs and the dance floor got packed. Instead of looking for a spot with more room, Paul went with it, stepping closer to Merula. She did the same thing. The dance floor kept filling in, and before they knew it, they were dancing inches apart.

Paul's heart pounded. He was sweating, and not from the crowd. Paul knew in his head that this was Merula, but she was also a firecracker, a crazy fun dancer, and... well... she looked really, really good. This close to her, he couldn't take his eyes off the way her shoulders and neck moved. Her hair looked as wild as she was. And her eyes? One look at those and he'd be hypnotized. Her knee—just her knee!—brushed against his and his heart felt like it jumped out of his chest. He wanted to take her hands, or dance with his arms near her waist, and see if she went with it. But wasn't it just a dance to her?

Wasn't it just a dance to _him_?

The Snitches rolled into the next song, and the spell broke. As the crowd eased up, Paul stepped back and tugged at his collar. He wasn't kidding this time.


	11. Sunset Pictures

Paul remembered something. He checked his watch.

"Oh, no!" Merula said.

"Pictures!"

Paul got his jacket and they hurried outside. The lake looked utterly spectacular, a pool of gold, with a blazing sky chased by night. Paul's heart sank when he saw the line. It was twice as big as it was earlier. As they got closer, though, he could see that it moved fast. Flashes of purple powder marked when each couple's picture was taken. The photographers posed the couples while their assistants refilled the flash bar and made sure everything was ready.

It took them about fifteen, twenty minutes to finally get their turn. There weren't many couples left behind them. The sun was beginning to set behind the Forbidden Forest; the sky was on fire; the lake was color of gold turning to copper.

The photographer started to pose Merula in front of him, then Merula said, "Wait. I want to do this." She stood back to back with him, heads touching, both arms folded, looking back at him. Paul got the idea and did the same. They had the skeptical air of, "I like you, but you're lucky to be here with _this_!"

As the flash bar exploded its purple glow, the butterfly took off and they both gasped and laughed. The photographer was overjoyed. You couldn't pose something like that. As they walked back up the hill, Paul said, "That's going to look incredible."

"Thanks for rolling with it. I know it wasn't sweet or cuddly."

"Nah. That wouldn't have been us."

"My turn," Merula said, remembering their game.

"Go for it."

"Favorite... food."

"Fish and chips."

"Salt or vinegar?"

"Pepper and tomato sauce. You?"

"Ugh! How can you ruin perfectly good fish and chips that way?"

"That's what my mum says. You?"

"Salt and vinegar, of course!" She shook her head. "That's disgusting..."

As they got back to the Great Hall, the lights inside dimmed for a slow dance. Merula pulled up. "Oh, no. I... no way."

"Are you sure? I'm good if you don't want to."

"It's too weird."

Paul was surprised he was looking at the same fearless goddess he'd been dancing with earlier. He shrugged. "Well, how about a walk? Madam Rakepick wanted us to keep our eyes open. Bill and Penny can watch the Great Hall."

"That sounds good. Let's hit the east wing. I'll bet there are some good views over that side of the castle."


	12. Things I Never Knew

They walked across the viaduct bridge, past Ravenclaw tower. Now that the sun was down, the night was getting a lot cooler, so Paul offered her his jacket while they were outside. She declined at first, then finally took it by the time they walked past the greenhouses. From here, Paul could barely hear the music from the Ball as the music got loud again. He wondered if they'd run into professor Rakepick. Or Flitwick. Or if Madam Hooch was watching them from high above.

The view behind the greenhouses was lovely as stars began to come out. It was a new moon, or close to it, so the sky was dark as black velvet. The Whomping Willow looked beautiful and forbidding as it always did. They could hear creatures that they couldn't identify shrieking out to one another from the Forbidden Forest.

"Favorite magical creature?" Paul asked.

"Don't laugh. Fairies."

"That's no surprise. You're their queen."

"In myths and stories, they cast powerful, old magic. And they're beautiful." She paused, then asked, "What's yours?"

"Niffler."

"Minus ten," she growled.

"What the hell?"

"Stop messing around."

"I'm not messing around!" What got her so angry?

"A niffler? A cute, cuddly niffler? Why not a unicorn, or a hippogriff?"

"Nifflers are fun, clever, cute, and they can be fierce when they want to be. I'm keeping that 10."

"The Queen of Hogwarts says no."

"Well, I'm the Prince of Midsummer."

Merula laughed. "And there never was a more goody prince than you."

Paul smiled. Merula did have a great laugh. He said, "I'd be Robin Hood, Prince of Sherwood, driving Nottingham out of his mind." Merula tried to hide her smile. He added, "Hell, you tried to destroy the school with a giant niffler. You know how dangerous they can be."

They started to turn back as they reached the corridors that led to the library and Charms class. Merula handed him back his jacket. Her smile turned into an impish grin. "You never got it, did you?" she asked. Paul frowned. "I didn't try to destroy the school. I made a giant niffler to give you the biggest what-the-F moment you ever had. And it worked brilliantly."

"You_...what?_"

"If I really wanted to wreck the school, I wouldn't have let a dozen other students see it happening. And I certainly wouldn't have sent you a message to come see it. I could have set loose a gang of giant pixies, or something worse, then sat back and laughed my evil villain laugh as everyone tried to stop them."

"Then why did you duel me when I went to change it back?"

She folded her arms and cocked her head to the side. "What do you think?"

Paul stared at her. "You just wanted to fight me?"

"That was the cherry on top. I had to get a little something for myself."

"But you could have just dueled me without the niffler."

"You should have seen the look on your face!"

"But we could have just dueled in the dueling room!"

"Goody two shoes use the dueling room. This way, you had something to fight for."

"But you lost!"

Merula pointed at him. "I did _not_ lose! You've got selective memory. I knocked your ass on the ground first, and everyone saw it! _Then_ you came back and got me." She folded her arms again, a great big smile on her face. "It was fun."

His date for the Ball was a maniac. "Fine, whatever. Point to Slytherin. But if I arrived too late—"

"You need to take a few risks, Finch. You'll never grab the brass ring without one."

"I take plenty of risks! And is it that hard to call me Paul?"

"_Paul_! Fine! And point to Hufflepuff. You do take risks, but only to yourself. You don't put anybody or anything else at risk. At least, not without them going along with it."

He couldn't believe that she didn't get it. "The school could have been damaged. Someone could have gotten hurt."

"But the school didn't get damaged. Even if it did, professors can repair the school in minutes. With a dozen students, there would have been enough protection spells going around for no one to get hurt."

"Except you, when they expelled you."

"Yeah, well... this school isn't everything."

Paul stopped. "Now wait a minute. You're a powerful witch, Merula. No kidding. You can be stronger than Madam Rakepick. You _know_ it! You'd throw all that away?"

"Why do you care?"

"I like you!" he cried.

His cheeks blushed crimson. He actually said it.

"Ugh. Since when? Minus—"

"When you're not being a complete pain in the ass, yes, I like you!" That got her attention. Merula folded her arms. She looked intrigued but she didn't halfway believe him. Her butterfly fluttered up onto her arm. Then her shoulder. It seemed wary too. Paul continued, "I hated you when we met. I can't stand bullies. Once you knocked that off... it's a bunch of things. You're real. You're don't try to be anything that you're not. You're badass. I admire that. You work hard. I can relate. You like getting potion ingredients under your fingernails. So do I! You never, ever give up. We've been cats and dogs for five solid years! And when you look—" He stopped.

A vacuum of embarrassing silence filled the space. Merula tilted her head. "Say it," she challenged.

Paul took a deep breath. "When you look at me, you don't see my brother, or curses, or curse breaking, or potential, or the next step in your rise to world domination. At least you hate _me_."

Merula gazed at him levelly. "Your friends are real with you. How am I more real than they are?"

"You have to ask? They don't bite." Merula laughed. "See? You get it! I may be good, but I don't always behave."

"I don't believe you. Tonks and Tulip bite all to hell."

"Tonks and Tulip would throw a giant niffler at the school and then _not_ call me to stop them!" Merula laughed again. He went all the way. "Mer, sometimes I feel like if you had an ounce of nice and I had an ounce of nasty, we might actually get along. You may not like me, but at least you _get_ me. If you got yourself booted out of Hogwarts, I'd miss you."

Merula let out a breath. She nodded. "I buy it. And that was the single gutsiest thing I've ever seen you do. Ten points." She touched his arm. "I don't not like you," she said.

Paul froze. "You... what?" Merula froze too. "You like me?"

"No! Don't be ridiculous," she said. She pulled her hand back, looking anywhere but his eyes. "I mean... like I said before, you've got guts. You get shit done. But you do make me mad... and, annoyed... you're just so goody, ugh! But... I don't know..." She rubbed the back of her neck. Finally, her hands flopped to her sides. "Fighting with you makes Hogwarts more fun, all right?"

Paul grinned. "I'll take it." The butterfly landed on his shoulder. Paul smiled. "My turn. Tell me why you like butterflies."

Merula looked shaken. "Don't... I... ugh!" She turned and walked away from him.

"What is it? Merula, wait. Please! I'm sorry..." Paul hurried after her. He felt like he'd just walked over someone's grave.

"I should have _known_ you'd ask me that. You're bloody psychic or something!" she growled.

He caught up to her in the middle courtyard. He couldn't see her well, but he could hear breathing, slow, shaky and forced. Her hands were balled into fists. Sensing his presence, she shook her head. Merula raised her hand to her face. He couldn't see from behind, but it looked like she dabbed her eyes with her fingers. "If you made me smear my makeup, I'll kill you," she said.

"I believe you," he replied quietly.

"Pfft." She turned around. Paul could see where she'd dried tears in the corners of her eyes. He thought her makeup looked okay. Merula held up her corsage. The butterfly danced in front of her, then landed on her fingertips and walked a few steps. Merula sighed. "It feels just like a real one," she said. She continued, "I like butterflies. My mother likes that I like butterflies. I thought they were magical too, when I was a little girl. They're beautiful, they're delicate, and yeah, they look like fairies." She looked at Paul. "I haven't drawn a butterfly since they took her away. I haven't worn butterfly jewelry. It's been eight stupid years—half of my life—since the last time I saw her." She squeezed her eyes shut, and breathed a tight breath. The butterfly sat completely still. With her eyes closed, she said, "But this is the Ball, and it wouldn't be how I dreamed about it without one."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Merula."

"Yeah, I know." She opened her eyes. "I love this dress. Will she ever see me in it? When she gets out... if they ever let her out... will she know who I am?"

From the heart, he said, "I don't know. I can't imagine what you're going through. Ten—" He stopped. Paul shook his head. "I can't imagine. Just... hear me when I say that you're not alone. I care."

She chuckled sadly. "Because you like me?"

"Yeah. I do." Paul offered her his hand. Merula took it. Slowly, he stepped toward her. "Can I hug you?" he whispered. She just looked so sad. Merula hesitated, then she nodded. He took her into his arms. She felt fragile. This was nothing like the girl with the knife-blade eyes and combat boots that he was used to. Paul imagined holding a butterfly. Or a fairy. He tried to hug her only as hard as she hugged him. 

After a moment, Merula asked quietly, "Ten years ago, your brother disappeared. Is that what you were going to say?"

Paul felt awful. "I'm sorry. It jumped into my head. I didn't want to make it about me."

"You miss him."

The wound opened. "Yeah." His voice shook. Paul pulled himself together. "I got used to it, him not being around, but lately... It's just that... by this time next year, I'll be as old as he was when he was expelled."

Merula shocked him: she pulled him tighter. So he hugged her back. She paused, then said, "It's like a hole inside you that you can't fill. No matter how good everything else is."

He nodded. "There's just this... empty."

He never realized that they'd both lost someone close to them. Deep down, that was something they had in common, that few other people could understand.

Paul didn't know how long they stood there.

Eventually, Merula sighed. "We should get back to the Ball," she said. Paul let go. They started walking again, toward the sounds of music, dancing and magic.


	13. Servant of the Red Wizard

They took the corridor near the Transfiguration classroom. Merula was about to ask her next question when from the shadows ahead of them, someone said, "What have we here? Love birds?" Their tone dripped with mockery.

Paul and Merula stopped dead.

From the end of the corridor, Nigel walked slowly toward them, hands behind his back. He grinned like a fairy-tale wolf. "I racked my brain wondering how I'd draw you two away from the party, and here you walk off by yourselves. I couldn't have planned it better."

Paul had had enough. "What the fuck do you want?" he asked, clenching his fists.

"Point for the F-bomb," Merula said.

Nigel chuckled. "You. Both of you. My master demands it." Nigel flourished his wand. His tuxedo flared into robes that turned red as blood.

The corridor exploded into chaos.

Paul drew his wand from an extension pocket in his jacket and Merula drew hers from one in the back of her dress. With his left hand, Nigel threw dozens of what looked like tiny copper ball bearings into the air. With his right, his wand waved in a flare of bloody light. He spoke words that sounded ancient and sickening. The ball bearings sprang into dozens of red doxies.

"_Protego_!" Paul cried. The air shimmered for a moment as a shield came into being around both of them.

"_Stupefy_!" Merula shouted. She ignored the doxies and went straight at Nigel.

Nigel grunted as Merula's shot took him full in the chest—grunted, but wasn't knocked down. He came back up grinning. "_Incendio_!" he cried, and a blast of fire struck their shield a foot and a half away from Merula's face, resounding with the snap of a steel drum. The shield bent but held. Dozens of doxies swarmed it, clawing and tearing, leaving pin-thin streaks of fire in the air. Their eyes burned blazing, sightless white.

"_Immobulus_!" Paul shouted, firing at the doxies. Nothing happened. Sparks the size of dust sizzled over the doxies and faded out. Paul whispered, "_Protego_... _protego_... _protego_..." to pump up the shield as Nigel hit it with more magical blasts.

"Next?" Merula said to Paul. She lobbed two quick shots of _incendio_ at him, high and low. He knocked away the first with his wand and the second with a disdainful toss of his sleeve.

"Was he this powerful when you dueled him before?"

"No!"

Nigel laughed. "You two are bugs next to me!"

It had to be dark magic. Paul looked at the doxies. They were supposed to be black; he'd never heard of anything like these. The shield was covered with fire streaks from the doxies' claws. Paul could feel it giving out.

Merula tried the striking charm. Severing. Exploding. Nothing worked. Nigel shattered their shield and Paul only just got another shield up in time before a doxy clawed out his eyes. Nigel was getting stronger.

Paul touched his wand to his cufflinks and whispered, "_Vivificent_." Rose gold had spiritual, healing properties. His cufflink felt cold as his wand sucked energy from it. The tip of his wand flared. He whipped his wand across his body and flicked it at the air as he shouted, "_Pellat tenebras!_" A blast of white light filled the room and a cloud of insubstantial glowing energy covered everything between their shield and Nigel, fading as it fell. The doxies screamed as it touched them.

"A countercurse?"

"Do they look like normal doxies to you?"

The doxies touched by the cloud turned from red back to black. They shook their heads and charged anything that wasn't a doxy. Nigel backpedaled, firing wild _immobulus_ blasts at the ones coming at him.

Merula immobilized the ones near them while Paul cried, "_Rictusempra_!" and hit Nigel in the ribs.

"A tickle jinx? Are you crazy?" Merula said.

But Nigel doubled over laughing. Paul said, "The heavy stuff wasn't working, so I went light."

Merula frowned. Nigel was still laughing. He looked furious. He tried to cough out a spell and failed miserably. "_Incarcerous_," Merula said, barely audible to keep the power low. Magical ropes wrapped around his arms. She kept her wand pointed at him to feed her spell.

"I'll get his wand," Paul said.

As he started towards Nigel, Merula shouted, "Paul!" She grabbed her wand with both hands and started saying _incarcerous_ over and over again.

Nigel stopped laughing. His eyes flared red light. He growled, rising to a roar. More ropes from Merula's spell appeared around him, but they frayed and tore faster than they appeared. It was supposed to be impossible.

Paul backed up. "_Flipendo_!" he cried, striking Nigel right in the face.

Nigel only smiled. "There won't be anything left of you, Finch," he said.

Merula and Paul both threw up _protegos_. They backpedaled as Nigel threw spell after spell at them. He should have been exhausted. All their spells should have shredded him and knocked him senseless. He stalked toward them like a minotaur bearing down on its prey. They threw everything they had at him. He parried a spell from Paul. A spell from Merula. He ignored a spell that hit his chest. Another that fizzled against his leg. It was like his whole body overflowed with magic.

Paul tried to remember what could do that. Something he carried. Something important to him. Paul started shooting _finite incantatem_ over and over again, aiming at different parts of Nigel's fabulous wardrobe. Nigel glared at him with naked fury and blasted Paul's side of the shield with spikes of ice.

Merula said, "Cover us!"

"What?!" Paul cried. He grabbed his wand with both hands and used it to parry Nigel's blasts as well as feed their _protego_. He felt the wand shiver and shudder. His arms trembled. The shield wouldn't last long.

Merula waved her wand and said, "_Interpretari Gallico_." She pressed it to her neck. In French, Paul heard her say, "You're on to something. What is it?"

"What are you saying?" Nigel demanded. The shield flashed as he threw a severing charm at her. It would have cut her head off.

In French, Paul replied, "It's a dark strengthening enchantment. It's something that he treasures. I've taken shots at his wand, his robes, and his tie. Nothing's worked!"

"It won't help you!" Nigel roared.

"There's only one thing he cares about that much," Merula said.

Nigel threw his body against their _protego_. He gripped his wand like a knife and stabbed it. The shield shattered. Paul heard a loud snap and an electric jolt impaled his forearm. "WAND'S BROKEN!" he screamed in English to warn her.

"_FINITE!_" Merula shouted—aiming straight at Nigel's hair.

The corridor filled with an explosion of green light. When the spots in front of their eyes cleared, they saw Nigel sprawled on the ground, buried in his red robes. His hair was equally sprawled, sticking out in every direction like a punk version of Albert Einstein. "No... nooooo..., " he moaned, over and over.

Paul shook out the fingers of his right hand. His forearm still felt like it was asleep, but he could move it. He took Jae's flask out of his pocket, popped the cork, and took a long swig. He didn't shudder at all. He offered it to Merula. She didn't even ask and took a swig with one hand as she covered Nigel with the other.


	14. Aftermath

Professor Flitwick found them as they brought Nigel, bound and levitating, out of the corridor near the Astronomy tower. Madam Rakepick and professor McGonagall came at once, and professor Flitwick went to fetch professor Dumbledore and take care of the doxies.

The long part of their night got longer. Rakepick and McGonagall each took turns interviewing Paul and Merula in professor Dumbledore's office while the other guarded Nigel's dejected figure in Filch's office. Then professor Dumbledore arrived and they had to answer questions again, while Rakepick began to interrogate Nigel. Dumbledore had the kindness to transfigure his desk into a couch for them to sit on, and brought a tray of sweets from the Ball. He also brewed them some tea. Professor Dumbledore's questions included some of the more light-hearted kind. Paul's favorites were, "I think Mr. Blackwell's hair looks rather better, don't you, Mr. Finch?" and, "Ms. Snyde, would you tell me the name of your dressmaker?" Merula's butterfly danced on his wand, too. Then Dumbledore had left, after giving them explicit instructions to wait. Merula asked for permission to browse his library, to which the professor had agreed with a smile. He also gave five points to Slytherin, for making the best of a frustrating spot in the middle of their evening.

And then the aurors from the Ministry had shown up, and they had questions, too.

Shortly after, they sat at on the couch with a stack of books between them and a nearly empty pot of tea. The clock struck 11:30. Both of them looked up, and both of them sighed.

"So much for the end of our magical night," Merula said.

Paul paused. "Is it weird that I thought the fight was kind of fun?"

Merula half gasped, half laughed. "You didn't!"

"I mean, it was scary as hell, but after it's over... wasn't it cool? We were a good team! When you used _interpretari_ to talk to me? That was genius!"

Merula looked embarrassed. "I thought it was fun too."

"You mean it?"

"All those _protegos_, right from the start—you knew I'd go full attack, didn't you? It was like when we were dancing. And you spotted the enchantment."

"I set him up, you knocked him down."

Merula fist bumped him. "Boom! Nasty and nice!"

"A deadly combo!"

The door to the office opened and Dumbledore and Rakepick strode in. Paul and Merula jumped up. Dumbledore said, "The aurors have taken Mr. Blackwell into custody. They may contact you with further questions, but not tonight. Before I release you to return to the Ball, I want to express my profound gratitude and admiration for your courage. House points will be awarded to both Slytherin and Hufflepuff."

"Return to the... it hasn't been cancelled?" Paul asked.

Dumbledore chuckled. "All's well, Mr. Finch. This isn't the first time we've had a crisis during the Ball."

Paul didn't know whether to feel happy or stunned about that one.

"Is Laurel okay?" Merula asked.

Rakepick nodded. "Safe and sound. And dancing with a young Ravenclaw who went to the Ball solo, I'm told."

The students sighed in relief. Paul asked, "Did you find out anything from Nigel?"

Madam Rakepick said, "Mr. Blackwell gave us some information. We still don't know the Red Wizard's identity. As to why he attacked you, quite simply, the Red Wizard wanted to you both dead. Mr. Blackwell wasn't sure why, but he believes that the Wizard sees you as a threat now, not just an irritation, after you rescued young Miss Haywood from the painting."

Paul and Merula looked at each other. Merula turned to Rakepick and asked, "Nigel told you that?"

"He was surprisingly cooperative. It seems his defeat broke his spirit. I did use legilimency for good measure."

Dumbledore observed, "You both look quite calm at the idea of the Red Wizard wishing to kill you."

Paul shrugged. He looked at Merula again. "He's been out to get me for years now. Now it's not just me."

"Bring it on. Why should this guy have all the fun?" Merula said, nodding at Paul.

Dumbledore and Rakepick chuckled. "Off you go," Dumbledore said.

Merula and Paul rushed back through the corridors to get to the Great Hall. "We can make the last dance if we hurry," Paul said.

Merula drew her wand and swished it at her feet, saying something Latiny. Paul saw them transfigure into rose gold combat boots. She grinned at him. "Beat you there!" she cried as she barreled down the stairs.

"Not on your best day!" he laughed as he charged after her.


	15. Last Dance

They reached the foyer to the Great Hall at about the same time, laughing and with Merula clotheslining Paul to keep him from getting ahead of her. She had a great head start, but Paul had longer legs, and it was easier for him to jump stairs in pants. The last dance was starting. Merula changed her boots back to heels and they quickly walked inside.

With the lights down for the last dance, the room was only lit by a soft glow from the wisteria and lichen, as well as the slowly drifting fairy lights. They gathered looks from their friends as Paul led her by the hand to the middle of the dance floor. They were probably wondering what happened to them, not to mention Nigel. Paul caressed her fingers as they walked, and he smiled as she caressed them back. Paul spun her once and pulled her into his arms.

Merula's arms felt like the best hug ever. Her legs weaved with his. Her perfume smelled like summer, fresh white flowers and a breath of vanilla, with a touch of something that tickled his nose enough to make him smile_._ Paul breathed it in and sighed. She let him pull her closer. He closed his eyes. Before he could overthink it, Paul said, "Fighting for our lives aside, this has been the best night ever." He gave her cheek a long, tender kiss. "Thank you."

Merula pulled him even closer. She pressed her head against his, kissed his cheek, and said, "You're not so bad yourself. You're welcome." Merula caressed his hair and pressed her cheek against his, her arms wrapped around him. As they swayed together in time with the music, moving together, everything felt strangely, wonderfully right. He never imagined feeling so happy with Merula in his arms.

It felt like his memory of the past five years had flipped on its head. All their little verbal sparring matches didn't feel the same now. He could feel himself flirting with her. He loved seeing her fire. Even in their duels, he remembered the rush of how they could sense each other, read each other, counter and attack like they'd always known each other. Small feelings that were always there, that he never knew he felt, fell on him in a torrent.

Paul pulled her closer, softly massaging her back. Merula made a yummy sound. "Yes?" she whispered in his ear. The heat of her breath and the brush of her lips sent a thrill through from his heart to the tips of his fingers and toes.

"I just glad we made it to the last dance," he whispered.

"Me too," she said. Paul thought she was smiling. Merula played with his hair some more. He felt warm all over. He caressed her hair. Merula rested her head on his shoulder and it felt so good that he almost died. In the best possible way, nothing made sense any more. He always liked her in a weird, adversarial kind of way, but this was more than that.

Paul's eyes widened. What if... what if...

He already knew it was true. And his heart almost broke at the idea of letting her go. What if things went back to the way the used to be? He only had until the end of the song to do something about it. And how did she feel about him?

Merula's fingers gently brushed the back of his neck. Paul swallowed. He felt her arms around him. Her body, holding him. Things didn't feel the same as they ever did before. He thought he knew how she felt.

Paul closed his eyes.

He kissed her cheek again. He slowly drew back and kissed her cheek again, a brush of his lips. She became still. He felt Merula kiss his cheek too, as he drew back farther. A sensation like magic buzzed all over his skin. He kissed near the edge of her lips, close enough that it made him ache.

They looked into each others' eyes, hers searching, his... wanting? Yearning? Paul didn't have the words to describe it. Merula held her breath. Paul didn't even hear the music. Later, he would remember how the soft lights from the fires around the room lit her face. Those eternal, beautiful eyes. Paul rested his forehead against hers. Merula sighed and he kissed her.

He kissed her softly at first, a tender, questioning touch. Her lips tasted like wildflower honey, mixed with a musky hint of Scotch that made him smile. They felt as soft as spring morning's dew. Merula pulled his face to hers. He lightly brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue. Her lips parted and her tongue searched his, softly at first, then a playful rush that made his world explode. A soft moan escaped his throat as he pulled her tight to him. Sharing her breath, feeling her sigh, he never imagined a kiss could feel like this. They kissed each other like their senses took a holiday together and came back with stories that they couldn't tell a soul.

Paul felt like he was falling. He remembered the night in Flourish and Blotts, just two months ago. He'd made her laugh for the first time, and it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard. She'd fired his imagination with a book on ancient Persian sorcery. By the end of the night, they sat next to each other in the aisle, reading over each other's shoulders. Paul remembered smiling, and thinking, _I must be dreaming. This couldn't be Merula Snyde._

_But it was. And now I'm in love with her. _

_I'm in love with her!_

The song ended. As the torches and lamps came up, the band moved into a jazzy rendition of "Dream a Little a Dream." Before Merula started to pull away, Paul kissed her as tenderly as he could. She melted into him. As the crowd started to thin, she finally pulled back. He caressed her face again, and she did the same to his. Merula bit her lip. She grinned at him. He couldn't stop smiling at her.

"Can I walk you to your dorm?" he asked.

"You'd better." She took his hand.

. . .

Paul and Merula walked slowly to the Slytherin common room. It wasn't far, so they walked more slowly the closer that they got.

"So now what happens?" she asked.

Paul caressed her hand. "Do you want a boyfriend?"

"Ugh." She shook her head, but she didn't let go of his hand, either.

"Sounds like a no..."

"It's not a no!" Merula looked hurt. Her expression turned back to the razor blade. "Once I go through that door, we both turn back into pumpkins. If we start dating, my family will _all_ come down on me about it. Once they find out—and they will find out—they'll make me stop seeing you. And Slytherin House? Most of the purebloods are drama kings and queens about it. I don't need that." She groaned.

Paul sighed. He caressed her hand again. He checked if there was anyone else in the hall. There were a few, but none nearby. He whispered, "Do you want a dirty little secret, then?"

She stopped. "A what?"

A seventh-year who had just finished wishing his date goodnight walked past them. They were alone. Paul checked the corridor again, then said, "We stay together, but we don't tell anyone else. We say that it was just for the Midsummer Ball. Or we're friends now. If they saw us kissing, we say we got carried away. But we don't date anyone else, and when no one else is looking..." He smiled at her and winked.

"Are you serious?"

"It's not very Hufflepuff of me, I know. And we'll both catch hell for it when someone finally finds out. But if that's all we can do..."

Merula leaped into his arms. She kissed his cheek, hard. "MmmmWAH! Yes! Hell yes! It'll be so worth it!" She laughed and kicked up her rose-gold heels. Paul spun her around in a little circle. "You've got a little snake in you after all!"

"That's why I keep winding up in detention."

"Detention, secret liaisons, this opens up all kinds of possibilities. This is going to be killer!"

Paul kissed her cheek. "Come on, killer. Let me wish you goodnight."

They reached the corridor that split off to Slytherin house. Merula turned to face him, holding his hands. "All right. Secret password. Kiss me and shoo, or I'll have to knock you unconscious or something."

"One last thing, fairy queen," Paul said. He gazed into her eyes. He loved, finally, looking at them without being cheesed off about something she'd done or said. "30 points Slytherin. 25 points Hufflepuff. Name your favor."

Merula wrapped her arms around him and they shared a last, tender kiss. She pressed her cheek against his. Merula whispered, "Good kisser. Five points. G'night, Paul." The butterfly danced a merry circle around both of them.


	16. Secret Friends

Rowan, Tonks, and Penny mobbed him as he entered the Hufflepuff common room. They sat him down in the largest chair and cornered him there for another hour, plying him with fruit juice and cookies until he told them everything. Well, almost everything. In the end, he said that he and Merula weren't dating. Which was sort of true: right now, they weren't dating. They were improvising. They wouldn't be dating again until September.

Paul and Merula shared lunch one more time before the Hogwarts Express took everyone home for the summer. That and a few secret meetings in the corridor after Paul got out of kitchen detention. On the way home, they sat in a car with Rowan, Liz, Gabi, and Steven, and did the best they could to pretend they weren't interested in each other.

. . .

Summer was fun, but he missed Merula. And he couldn't talk to anyone about it!

He met up with Rowan to check out an exhibition of old books and with the Weasleys to see a Quidditch match. Merula couldn't write to him without being found out, so they planned to meet each other at Diagon Alley on the first weekend in July and August. Merula was there often, and Paul had plenty of reasons he could drum up to head down to London. If anyone saw them together, they'd say it was an accident. They greeted each other with their usual "Finch" and "Queen of Hogwarts," then as soon as they were alone they kissed and hugged the stuffings out of each other. Paul couldn't wait to get back to school.

OWL results arrived toward the end of July. He received Outstanding in both Introduction to Magical Medicine and Defense Against the Dark Arts, the latter helped by his practice against Cursed Vaults and time on the curse breaker squad; Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions; Acceptable in Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy; and Poor in History of Magic. He owed his grade in Potions to his study sessions with Merula, who helped him improve his crafting of healing mixtures. Merula received Outstanding in Ancient Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts, the latter also helped by curse breaking; Exceeds Expectations in Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic; Acceptable in Transfiguration and Astronomy; and Poor in Herbology. Paul's help with the ancient astronomy around megaliths had bumped up her Astronomy grade.

When the first day of school finally came, Paul was more excited than he'd been since his first day. His heart leaped moment that he saw her. Then it sank when he realized they still had to act like they got on each other's nerves. It really wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. People had seen them dancing, seen them kissing, so nobody was surprised when the scornful edge of their old conversations changed to the banter of rivals trying to one-up each other. In the meantime, while they tried to sort out when they could see each other away from prying eyes, he would brush her hand "by mistake" while taking care of brooms for Flying class, and she would "accidentally" bump his shin with her foot under the Potions table.

. . .

About a week after the start of school, Paul spotted a black coach with silver trim landing near the school's entrance. Nothing appeared to pull the coach; it must have been thestrals. On the coach's door, Paul spied a heraldric shield emblazoned with the letter S. Soon after, one of the Hufflepuff prefects pulled Paul aside in the corridor. She told him that professor Sprout wanted to see him in her office immediately.

When Paul arrived, he saw professor Sprout sitting behind her desk, flanked by professor Snape on her right. In front of her desk, and backing up as Paul came in, Paul saw a tall, rigid man dressed in an expensive, dark, navy blue suit, with a gray vest and a silver chain. He held what looked like a small wooden briefcase. Merula stood next to him, straighter than usual.

"Professor Sprout? You wanted to see me?" Paul asked.

"Yes, Mr. Finch. Come in." Paul approached her desk. "This is Officius Snyde, Miss Snyde's uncle. He wished to see you."

"See m—" Paul cut off. He looked at Mr. Snyde. Mr. Snyde looked like an old, gruff statue from the Ministry, his face lined deep with responsibility and expectations no one could meet. He wasn't as scary as Evil Super Nigel, but not by much. Paul stiffened his resolve and stood straighter. "How can I help you, sir?"

"Merula tells me that you are the young man who escorted her to the Midsummer Ball. She also tells me that you helped her fight the student who attacked her. And that you... lost your wand?"

"Yes sir."

"How clumsy of you."

The corner of Snape's mouth turned up. Professor Sprout fidgeted in her seat, but held her tongue for now. Paul seethed. Merula's uncle didn't know that they'd fought together, or didn't care. Merula wore a poker face, but from this angle, he could see that she wore a small butterfly pin on her robes.

Paul smiled slightly, then buried it as he faced Mr. Snyde. "Very clumsy, sir. But we got even with him for it."

Merula hid a grin. So did Professor Sprout. Professor Snape grew even more livid than usual, and Mr. Snyde was unimpressed. Mr. Snyde asked, "How have you continued your practice since then?"

"With a training wand, sir. My parents are saving up to get me a new wand for Christmas."

Mr. Snyde's lips curled in disgust. "A child's wand. You should be ashamed!"

"I lost my wand helping Merula, sir." Paul was getting angry. "I'm not ashamed at all." And then he _got_ angry! "I'd have broken ten wands to help her._ I'm proud of it_!_"_

Merula looked like she wanted to run over and hug him. Professor Sprout beamed at him. Mr. Snyde became quiet, and Professor Snape simply frowned in what looked like disappointment.

"I'm sorry, sir. Please excuse me," Paul said, nodding his head.

Mr. Snyde fidgeted. "Yes. In any event, for your help, my niece has insisted that our family should replace the wand that you lost."

Paul looked at Merula. "She what?"

"I believe people should learn from their mistakes, and that you should earn yourself a new wand." Merula started to glare at her uncle. "However, Merula insists that you were of great help to her during the fight, and quite brave. For a Hufflepuff. She won over her aunt Evanora, and I have... consented." Mr. Snyde opened out the case. Inside were six wands of different length, shape, and make. Mr. Snyde continued, "Merula herself helped Mr. Ollivander to choose a selection of wands."

"He asked about your house, temperament... achievements... classes... he even asked about the dance. He remembered your last wand like he made it yesterday," Merula said.

Paul started toward the case, then wasn't sure if he wasn't being presumptuous.

"Choose one, boy!" Mr. Snyde hissed.

Paul closed his eyes to slits. He passed his hand over the wands, trying to feel whether any of them called to him. They all did. Mr. Ollivander, and Merula, knew him better than he realized. Their energy thrummed like different guitar strings, each for a different note in a song.

This one? He started to reach for the one in the back—then his hand dropped down and he picked up the one next to it. When he picked it up, Paul felt it sizzle in his hands, as if it wanted to jump up and run like a new puppy. A smile like the sun burst out on Paul's face.

"Cedar wood, unicorn hair core, solid flexibility," Mr. Snyde observed. "Rather typical for a Hufflepuff."

Paul didn't know about that. He felt like he was holding Excalibur! "Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

"That's quite unnecessary."

Paul wanted to shake Mr. Snyde's hand in thanks, but Snyde looked like he thought Paul was a pesty little mouse now armed with a wand. Paul just bowed instead and Snyde gave him a curt nod. Paul looked from face to face with inexpressible gratitude. Merula brushed her hair out of her eyes, just long enough so that her face was hidden from her uncle as she winked at him.

. . .

Mr. Snyde thanked the professors, wished Merula well with her studies, and left to return the rest of the wands to Ollivanders.

Paul couldn't stop talking as he and Merula walked back into the east corridor. "I don't know what to say!" he said, brandishing his new wand.

"Don't say anything. You'll just embarrass yourself."

"Thank you."

"Paul, it's fine."

"This is incredible!"

"What did I just say?"

"All right. All right." Paul took a left near a branch in the corridor where most students would usually go right, gesturing her to follow him. He tested his wand's balance again. It really felt like it wanted to go out and run like a race horse.

He got a crazy idea. Paul grinned at her. "Do you wanna duel?"

"_What_?"

"Come on! I have to break it in, and there's no better way to do it. And no one I'd rather... break it... in... with." Paul voice trailed off. His mind was going in all kinds of crazy ways, and he was sounding more like an idiot with every word.

Merula grinned and bit her lip. She drew her wand, testing its energy in her hands. "What do you say, girl?" she asked it. She looked at Paul. Her eyes raced with mischief. "Should we go play?"

* * *

_**Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please let me know! If there was something you wanted to see more or less of, constructive feedback is always welcome as well. Thank you!**_


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